The Billionaire I Married by Mistake

8. CHOOSE

|Javier|

I tugged at the edges of my gloves, smoothing them out as I strode toward the sports lounge. The place was livelier than usual—crowded, humming with chatter and bursts of laughter. It felt strange for a moment, almost out of place, until the obvious dawned on me. It was the weekend. Of course.

Without sparing the room much attention, I made a beeline for the counter, intending to grab a bottle of water and keep to myself. But I didn’t even make it halfway.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement—a subtle shift in energy. A group had gathered in one corner of the lounge, voices overlapping in light conversation and flirtatious laughter. I normally wouldn’t have bothered to look. Whatever scene was unfolding had nothing to do with me.

That is, until I heard my name cut through the noise.

“Javier!”

The voice was unmistakable. I glanced over, reluctantly, and sure enough, a man had risen from his seat, the women around him parting like a tide. From the heart of the little circle, Gabriel stepped forward with all the confidence of someone who’d just won a game he hadn’t played. He slipped off his sunglasses with a dramatic flourish, flashing me a grin that was far too smug to be sincere.

I exhaled sharply through my nose, turning away without acknowledging him. Maybe if I acted like I didn’t hear, he’d get the message and stay where he was.

But no such luck.

“Bye, ladies. I’ve got to catch up with my friend,” I heard him say, his voice oozing charm. “It was lovely meeting you all.”

Then came the footsteps—deliberate and closing in fast.

“Vier!”

His voice rang out again, sharp and insistent, but I kept walking without so much as a glance over my shoulder. My pace didn’t falter until I reached the counter, where I immediately a cup of coffee and a bottle of water. As the cashier rang it up, I sensed movement to my right—and sure enough, Gabriel had caught up and was now standing beside me.

From the corner of my eye, I could feel the weight of his stare, heavy with annoyance and disbelief. Then he leaned against the counter.

“Seriously? Are you deaf now, or just suddenly good at pretending I don’t exist?” he demanded, his voice tight with irritation.

Just then, the staff returned and handed me the water. I took it with a faint smile and a calm, “Thanks,” before finally turning to meet Gabriel’s glare.

He squinted at me like I’d personally offended his ego, frustration flickering in his features as he waited for an explanation.

I simply smirked, twisting the cap off my bottle with a slow, deliberate motion. “You only called out because you wanted me to rescue you from that swarm of fans, Gab. Don’t think I didn’t see you struggling to get away.”

Without waiting for a reply, I tipped the bottle to my lips and took a long drink, draining nearly half in one go.

For a moment, Gabriel didn’t move. His eyes were still narrowed, expression unreadable—but then it shifted. Recognition dawned across his face, and a second later, his hand landed on my shoulder with a loud clap.

And just like that, he burst into laughter

“You really do know me too well, Vier,” Gabriel said, flashing that trademark lopsided grin of his—the kind that could melt hearts and win over a crowd with little more than a glance. “No wonder I’m your best friend!”

I let out a long, drawn-out sigh, more exasperation than breath, then swatted his hand away with a sharp smack.

“Seriously?” I deadpanned, leveling him with a glare sharp enough to pierce through steel. “You’re not even going to bother changing?”

My eyes raked over his outfit—designer shirt half-buttoned like he’d just walked off a runway, layered chains glinting in the sunlight, and those impossibly clean sneakers that had clearly never touched real dirt. He was immaculate. Stylish. Trendy. And absolutely ridiculous for a day at the riding field.

“If you’re planning on staying here and putting on a show for your fans,” I added, my tone dry as a drought, “then consider yourself left behind.”

He had clearly just arrived—no mud on his shoes, no dust on his clothes. Knowing Gabriel, he probably spent the last twenty minutes basking in the attention of whatever admirers happened to be loitering near the clubhouse entrance, completely forgetting that we were supposed to be here for a competition.

Gabriel threw his hands up in surrender, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Alright, alright! I’ll change, okay? Just wait for me!”

I rolled my eyes and clicked my tongue, already turning away. Without another word, I spun on my heel and strode out of the sports lounge, the echo of my footsteps the only answer he got.

“Vier! Don’t start without me!” he called after me, his voice somewhere between playful and panicked. “You’ll regret it if you do—I’m the only one who could help you out!”

I didn’t bother replying. Let him think whatever he wanted.

Instead, I made my way to the outdoor seating area and picked the quietest spot I could find—a small table tucked near the edge, shaded by a wide umbrella and blissfully removed from the buzz of chatter and movement. I wasn’t in the mood to socialize. Not today.

Dropping into the chair, I slouched back and let my gaze drift toward the field. A few riders were already out there, mounted and moving with easy grace, their horses trotting smoothly across the grass in rhythmic patterns. They’d clearly arrived earlier—more prepared, more focused. It wasn’t surprising. I’d only gotten here about an hour ago, barely enough time to settle in.

The coffee didn’t take long to arrive. I wrapped my hands around the cup and took a slow, deliberate sip, letting the heat seep into my chest. Then I leaned back into the seat, sinking into its familiar comfort as my eyes drifted toward the training field ahead.

A few riders were already on horseback, moving with practiced ease, guiding their horses through quiet drills and graceful arcs. Judging by their calm rhythm, they’d probably been out there since sunrise.

Off in the distance, I could hear the sharp click of mallets and the thundering gallop of hooves echoing from the other side of the estate. There was a polo match in full swing—one I would’ve normally joined. But not today. Today, I’d chosen silence over spectacle. A quieter morning with a slower pace. Something to help me breathe, to organize the chaos that had been circling my head for weeks.

This wasn't just a casual morning at the club. There was a reason Gabriel had insisted we come here—and it wasn’t for horses or coffee.

He wanted to talk about marriage.

More specifically, my marriage.

Apparently, he had finally taken it upon himself to compile a list of “suitable” women. A curated collection of potential wives—complete with background, family history, and professional affiliations. It was absurd how clinical it all sounded, like we were finalizing a corporate merger instead of discussing my future.

I hadn’t even bothered to look through the list yet. To be honest, I didn’t really care who the woman was. As long as she wasn’t an embarrassment, I’d make it work. Love, chemistry, or personal connection? None of that mattered anymore.

And yet, right in the middle of that calm resignation, her face resurfaced in my mind—uninvited and frustratingly vivid.

The woman I’d spent the night with.

Her image struck like a snap of static—clear and sharp. My brows drew together as I recalled how effortlessly she walked out of my penthouse like it meant nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

I had taken her virginity—shared something intimate, even primal—and she’d dismissed it like it was just a checkbox on her to-do list.

“Well, I’m a modern woman, and I’m not sentimental about it. Let’s just say it’s my debut in the s****l world, and you happened to be the man I chose. Be grateful I picked you.”

Her voice echoed in my memory, smooth and collected. Not a hint of nervousness. No shy glances or false affection. Just cool, unapologetic detachment.

And for reasons I still didn’t fully understand, I was offended.

I wasn’t used to being a one-night rite of passage for someone. I was used to women lingering—texting, calling, hoping for more. Hoping for me. She, on the other hand, had walked out like it was a boardroom transaction, like she’d crossed an item off a list and moved on to the next.

I reclined further into my chair, elbows resting on the armrests, fingers brushing absently across my lips as her image continued to cloud my thoughts. I could still picture the way she had looked at me that night—steady, direct, and completely unfazed. Like she’d been in control the entire time.

Where the hell was she now?

I exhaled slowly, a sigh caught somewhere between frustration and reluctant curiosity. Why was I still thinking about her? Maybe it was the s*x—because if I was being honest, it had been damn good. Better than most. She’d met me on my level, unafraid, unfiltered. It had caught me off guard.

And if fate ever tossed her into my path again? I wouldn’t hesitate.

But that was a useless thought. I had a marriage to arrange. So no matter how much I wanted her again—that door had already shut.

I cleared my throat, a subtle effort to shake off the weight of the silence, and straightened my back against the chair. The scent of roasted beans still lingered in the air as I reached for my coffee. I took a slow sip, letting the heat roll across my tongue.

A man was coaxing his horse to leap over a training obstacle, clearly struggling. The animal hesitated, its front legs locking in defiance before backing off with an annoyed huff. I watched, mildly amused, as I nursed the remaining half of my drink.

It wasn’t until my cup was nearly empty that Gabriel finally appeared, dropping into the chair beside me with a dramatic sigh. He ran his fingers through his hair with that familiar, exhausted flair he wore like a badge of honor.

Then, right on cue—a chorus of squeals erupted behind us.

I didn’t need to turn, but curiosity won. I glanced over my shoulder and there they were: a small group of women huddled near the corner of the café terrace, still gushing and whispering excitedly. Their eyes, wide and starstruck, followed Gabriel as if he were royalty.

So that’s what took him so long. Not the usual wardrobe delay. He’d stopped to flirt, to bask in the glow of being adored a little longer.

Typical.

“Sometimes,” he began abruptly, not even bothering with a segue, “I think about retiring from acting.”

I didn’t look at him. “Then retire,” I said coolly, tapping the rim of my cup. “Simple as that.”

He leaned back with a groan. “But think about it. Imagine the heartbreak—millions of fans in tears, grieving the tragic end of Gabriel Gil’s career. Besides, I’m definitely not ready to work under my dad. Just watching you—how much of a workaholic you are—it’s enough to make me break out in hives. I’d never survive that kind of life.”

I let out a slow breath, the kind that held back both laughter and exasperation. “It’s all about how you handle your responsibilities, Gab. Sure, it gets overwhelming sometimes, but I actually like working for the company. There’s a sense of purpose to it. And if you’re being honest, I think you feel the same about acting. No matter how jam-packed your schedule is, you thrive on it.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Gabriel turned to look at me.

He acted as if he suddenly wanted to cry for what I had said. I already knew he was acting. So, I reached for the tissue holder, yanked out a few sheets, and lobbed them at his face with a deadpan expression.

None of them landed, of course. They fluttered in the air like paper butterflies and fell harmlessly to the floor.

He scowled. “You’re so mean to me.”

“Let’s just get to the point, Gab,” I said, draining the last of my now-lukewarm coffee.

From the corner of my eye, I saw it—the teasing smirk forming at the edge of his lips.

“You’re in such a hurry,” he said with mock innocence. “Excited to meet your future wife already?”

I gave him a glare that could have frozen boiling water, but it only made him laugh harder.

“Alright, alright,” he said, finally reaching into his leather satchel and pulling out his iPad. His fingers tapped the screen a few times before he handed it to me, still grinning like a child with a secret.

I took the device from him without a word.

The screen lit up, revealing the profile of the first woman on his list—his carefully chosen candidate to become my wife.

I didn’t allow myself to hesitate. I started reading.

“I’ve lined up five candidates for you,” Gabriel announced, his voice light but edged with expectation. I took the device from him, my fingers gliding over the screen as I began scrolling through the profiles one by one. “Just read through their info, get a feel for them. Then you can choose who you want. Though… if I may?” He leaned in, lowering his voice with a conspiratorial smile. “I highly recommend Jade Gomez. She’s exactly your type.”

My brows drew together almost instinctively as I paused on the second file—her file. Of course it was the one he was pushing for. Even before I tapped into her profile details, I already had a bad feeling. And then I saw it—her occupation.

Actress.

“You’re joking,” I muttered, eyes narrowing as I looked up at him. “Your top choice is an actress, Gab?”

His smile faltered.

“You do remember how much I value my privacy, right? The last thing I need is someone who lives in front of cameras for a living. I wouldn’t last a week with her, let alone a year.”

Gabriel let out an exaggerated groan, tipping his head back. “She’s planning to retire, okay? I thought maybe—just maybe—you’d look past the label and give her a shot.”

I gave him a flat look and turned back to the remaining profiles. Still four women left. But after several more minutes of silent scrolling, flipping through page after page of filtered smiles, career highlights, and sanitized descriptions of who they supposedly were… none of them clicked. None sparked even the faintest interest.

I sighed heavily and handed the tablet back. “Find someone better.”

Gabriel blinked, clearly not expecting that response. “Wait… you didn’t like any of them?”

I stood up, brushing off my trousers and adjusting the sleeves of my shirt, already done with the conversation. “No. So you’ll need to move faster. The wedding’s in two weeks.”

He groaned again, dragging a hand through his hair. “Vier, I’m not an escort agency.”

I gave him a sharp glare. “And I’m not asking for one. I want someone who understands exactly what this is—strictly business. We get married. Stay together for a year. No strings. No emotional entanglements. Once the contract’s over, so are we.”

“You’re so damn picky,” he muttered under his breath.

I ignored the comment. “I’ll be flying out for a business trip. Gone for two weeks. Once I’m back, we proceed immediately. The wedding will be private. No press, just a few witnesses. I want you to handle all the arrangements.”

Gabriel gave me a look like I’d just handed him a pile of bricks. “Wow. I didn’t realize I got promoted to your executive assistant.”

I exhaled sharply, a thread of irritation tightening in my chest. “I’m telling you this because I trust you, Gab. You know what’s at stake here. I need someone who fits—not just on paper, but in real life.”

He blinked, then grinned. “Aww, Vier. You’re trusting me with your marriage? That’s actually kind of sweet. I’m touched.” He batted his lashes dramatically, the grin on his face widening. “You’re making me kilig. Please, stop.”

God, remind me of how I became friends with this man?

“Fvck you,” I muttered, pushing past him and walking away from the table before I lost the last ounce of patience I had.

Gabriel only laughed and hurried after me. “Hey! You know I’m just messing with you.”

I didn’t respond.

“But seriously,” he called out, catching up. “I’ll handle it. Leave everything to me. By the time you land back in Manila, your bride will be waiting—ready, rehearsed, and hopefully not a pain in the ass.”